


Wallflower

by LuvvBug



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Fremione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-12
Updated: 2018-09-12
Packaged: 2019-07-11 08:43:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15968807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuvvBug/pseuds/LuvvBug
Summary: AU. Modern Times/No Magic. After being uprooted from a comfortable life in London, Hermione finds herself struggling to repress feelings for her new friend's older brother. Fremione, High School AU, Slight Ginny/Dean. Later Ginny/Harry. Rated M for suggestive language and sexual situations. Posted from FanFiction.





	1. Wallflower

I stared into the red solo cup I held in my hands entranced with the way the strobing lights of the living room reflected off the whiskey. The music was pulsing throughout the house and the floor was vibrating with all the jumping and excitement from the living room that had turned into an impromptu dance floor. I could feel my heart beating in time with the bass of the EDM track blasting from the speakers. It was easy for me to forget, in that moment, that I was in a new town, in a new school, in a new home. 

My parents had opened their own dentistry in Bristol, 120 miles away from my friends and life in London. We had lived 16 years in a small suburb with a two-car garage and packed it all up in one day to move to a cramped apartment with terrible Wi-Fi. I had spent the summer cooped up in my room devoting myself to my books and cuddling up with my orange Persian, Crookshanks. I only left the apartment to occasionally eat out at a restaurant or to go grocery shopping.

School had crept up fast, and before I knew it my mother was fussing about back to school shopping and lectures about “putting myself out there and making new friends.” I missed my best friend, Harry, who I skyped every Friday, and I missed the small park behind my old house that I used to play hide and seek in and tag with my friends when I was younger. I missed the quaint bookshop near my old school that carried books that smelled like dust and the elderly woman that owned the shop who served me tea while I curled up in an old armchair reading in the dim yellow light of the chandelier. 

It was already the first week of school and I had never felt so alone, even surrounded by so many people. The principal, Ms. McGonagall, had assigned Ginny Weasley, captain of the girls’ lacrosse team, to show me around and make sure I had somebody to sit by at lunch. My day ended with an invitation to a house party and the memory of an awkward lunch experience where I ate quietly next to Ginny, Lavender, and Padma and listened to how they lost their virginities. 

“You’ll make friends there,” my mother had said. “I met some of my best friends at parties. You can’t spend your whole life locked in your room.” I instantly regretted telling my parents about the party. They went as far as to drop me off, telling me to have fun and make questionable choices.

Ginny had waved at me when we locked eyes, but didn’t wander over the wall I was leaning against. She was dancing with a boy named Dean, who held onto Ginny’s hips and was grinding against her inner thigh. A boy named Neville had attempted small talk with me when I first arrived, but he was further down the hall chatting with my Chemistry lab partner, Luna.

It was nearing one in the morning and the only thing I had accomplished was taking a few sips of bitter tasting alcohol and resisting the urge to pee in fear of encountering one of the many couples that were using the bathroom for quick sex. I checked my phone for hundredth time, hoping for a message from my father saying it was time to come home, but there was no message, and my mother had made it clear I had to be at the party until at least 2:30. 

I pushed up from against the wall and wandered down the hall leisurely as I looked at photographs. The house belonged to the parents of a boy named Draco, a posh twat that played rugby and bragged about his material wealth. The wall was full of family portraits and school pictures throughout Draco’s youth. A school picture from the sixth grade showed a white blond angel with a missing tooth on the left side of his smile, but the next year’s photo was of a stone-cold boy glaring into the camera lens. I vaguely wondered what had changed that summer, but was interrupted by a violent shove that caused me to fall forwards to the ground and spill my drink. Draco’s entourage member #1, a girl with an upturned nose and long dark hair, smirked as she pulled a trashed Draco down the hall into what I assumed was a bedroom. 

Neville handed his drink to Luna and rushed to help me up. “I swear I didn’t notice you were falling,” he slurred. “I would’ve caught you if I noticed.”

“It’s fine Neville, I must’ve tripped.” I said lamely before I rushed into the bathroom and locked the door.

I decided against using the loo due to the presence of a red headed boy passed out in the tub and instead splashed cool water on my face. My white shirt was soaked exposing my black bra and the few small freckles on my chest. The counter was littered with cocaine residue and condom wrappers and there was writing on the mirror with maroon lipstick that read “Lavender takes it two at a time” and a couple of crude drawings of penises.

The whiskey on my shirt was turning the stark white fabric into a light brownish stain. I grabbed the hand towel and dampened it under the tap before removing my shirt to rub out the liquor before it became permanent. When I put the shirt back on the area of see-through cloth had spread and the entirety of my chest was visible from my naval to the straps of my bra. I stared at my reflection, marred by the harsh lines of a shaft, and mustered up the courage to walk out of the house to the street where I could call my father. I peered out of the bathroom into an empty hall. The music was still ear-splitting and a flutter of commotion could be distinguished from the electronic beats with some notes of drunken yelling and the shattering of glass bottle onto wooden floors. 

I wandered into the living room where Ginny was still dancing and a pair of boys were fighting. A broken bottle of vodka laid beneath the face of a boy with red hair, the dirty blond with the crooked nose was struggling to continue beating on the boy on the floor, but a group of Rugby boys were pulling him up and attempting to restrain him. 

“Not a party without a fight, huh?” I heard a voice behind me say. I turned to see a rangy orange-headed boy with a pale skin and a scattering of freckles over his face and neck. He looked at me with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as his lips curved into an amused smirk. “Looking to get ravaged tonight? That’s a lovely bra you’ve got. Very ‘elderly-woman chic’.”

I blushed so hard I could feel the embarrassment burn down my neck into my chest. I crossed my arms in front of my chest and shoved past drunken teens towards the front door. Boys cat-called and whistled at me. My eyes burned with rogue tears. I felt a tug on my wrist and was pulled backwards. 

I turned around so fast I nearly gave myself whiplash and slapped the assailant with a crack I almost heard over the music. His cheek flushed red and he seemed to not notice my violent reaction as he unzipped his jacket and stripped it off. 

“If you’re going outside, you should cover up,” he handed me his jacket with a smile. “You shouldn’t let anyone see that beautiful chest but me.” He winked and walked away, leaving me with a quickened pulse and the touch of soft leather in my hand. 

I replayed the moment outside as I waited for my father to pick me up. I remembered the sparkle in his crystalline eyes and the warmth of his hand against the skin of my wrist. I blushed thinking about the wink and my reaction to it. My heart wasn’t beating faster because of the wink. It was the adrenaline. It wasn’t the wink at all.


	2. T0-Do

“Did you have fun at the party?” my father asked. “I could hear the music from down the street. It’s a wonder the neighbors didn’t complain.”

 

I couldn’t focus on what he was saying. I was consumed.

 

The jacket smelled clean, like citrus and the scent of the air when it’s about to rain, with a note of sweat and salt. It smelled like hugging your bear close to your chest before you fall asleep or re-reading your favorite book: comforting and nostalgic.

 

“Did you make any friends?” his voice lingered in the air like a foul smell and turned my stomach into knots. I hugged the jacket closer to my body and grimaced as my shirt plastered onto my skin.

 

“I spilled whiskey on my shirt and flashed the entire party my bra.” Okay, maybe that was an exaggeration.

 

“Oh,” he swallowed, “That’s good too, I suppose.”

 

I all about ran to my room with a slam of the car door and sighed. I shrugged off the jacket and hung it on the back of my computer chair. Music was still playing softly throughout my room from when I was doing my coursework earlier in the day and I relaxed to the soft melody that contrasted the harsh dance music I was subjected to. 

 

I wandered to the restroom for a shower to wash the night away. I stood under the spray and felt my curls unravel and straighten down my back from the weight of the water. I pressed my head to the tile of the wall and thought about the ginger boy from the party.

 

His voice was like cream, smooth and sweet, and his skin was soft as silk against my own. He had given me his jacket to cover up. He knew I was embarrassed and he didn’t take advantage of the fact like I had thought he would. “He said I had a beautiful chest,” I whispered, touching the skin of my breasts. I remembered the way his lips mouthed the words, with a smile at the end that reached his eyes, those bright blue eyes. Then there was the wink. He had flirted with me.

 

There had been boys before that flirted with me of course, but I was always too engrossed with school to pay attention to boys. There had never been a boy that consumed my thoughts.

 

I washed my hair and body and stepped out of the shower. I wiped away the steam on the mirror and sighed at my reflection. Same brown eyes, same brown hair, same couple of zits on the edge of my hairline and chin. There was nothing special about me. He couldn’t have flirted with me. I’m too ordinary. 

 

I ran product through my hair and returned to my room. The jacket still hung on the chair. It seemed to be staring at me, begging me to run my hand along the soft leather or inhale the scent of boy once more.

 

I dressed into my pajamas and turned off the lights. I could see the outline of the jacket even in the dark, and I battled my inner creep for the strength to resist the urge to wear it to surround me in his scent while I slept. 

 

When I woke, it was close to seven in the morning. I could taste the sour of morning breath and mentally prepared myself for the day. It was Sunday, so I didn’t have school, but that meant that there was no distraction from the boy. I looked at the jacket, half expecting the previous night to have been a dream. I would have to return it eventually. 

 

In the restroom I thought about how I could give the jacket back while I brushed my teeth. I could ask around about him, find out who he is, I thought, but I didn’t know anybody and I wouldn’t know who to ask.

 

When I got back to my room I pulled out a piece of paper and began a new to-do list. One, find out more about the boy from the party, maybe start with a name and his age. Two, gather the courage to walk up to him, thank him for the jacket, and return it, preferably without running away like a coward. I was already regretting taking the jacket; I shouldn’t have taken it. Come on Hermione, where’s your courage? I sighed. Three, make a friend or two so I have other things to do on the weekends besides think about boys.

 

I had a whole day to prepare for seeing the boy. I had a whole day to think about what I was going to say and not make a fool of myself. 

“Hermione, breakfast time,” my mother sang. “Come down here before I drag you out of bed.”

 

The next day came too fast. After eating and lounging around the living room reading ahead in my History and Chemistry textbooks, I successfully kept myself busy enough to not think about the boy. Maybe I thought of him a little. Maybe I wondered if he read ahead in textbooks. I wondered if he made good grades, but then I remembered that mischievous look in his eye and concluded that he was a trouble maker. The good girls always fall for the trouble maker in my romance novels. And maybe I read some trashy romance novels too, for research purposes of course. 

 

I vowed to be like the heroines in the books that took the men by the collar of their shirt and kissed them long and hard and got what they wanted. Then I got to school and saw party boy talking to a skater boy in the parking lot and ran so fast to class that I couldn’t tell if my heart was pounding from the running or from seeing his face. 

 

I had already mucked up the ‘don’t run away like a coward’ part of my list. Bugger.

 

The jacket was burning a hole in my bag. I could feel people’s stares at my bag, which was bulging from the space the jacket took up. 

 

I got to lunch and saw Ginny waving me over to her and her friends. Lavender was applying pink tinted lip gloss to her thin lips and Padma was gushing to Lavender about something, gesturing wildly with her arms. 

 

Ginny moved over so I could sit next to her and stuffed her face full of sandwich. “So, did you enjoy the party last night? I saw you up against the wall.” Ginny swallowed her food down with a few gulps of cola. 

 

“I had an alright time I suppose,” I said, taking out my own lunch, “Did you have fun?”

 

“Dean and I danced all night until my brothers decided it was time to leave, they were my ride and mum told me I wasn’t allowed to be out by myself,” She looked around and then whispered to me, “They think I might have sex.” I couldn’t help but smile at the cheesy wink Ginny threw at me and took a bite of salad. 

 

“You meet anyone? Any cute boys?” Lavender asked me. Padma looked over at me and smiled, waiting for a response. 

 

“I…I,” I stuttered, “I spilled something on my shirt and a boy gave me his jacket to cover up.” I blushed remembering for the hundredth time since the incident how warm the jacket was against my bare arms. Warmth that had come from his body.

 

“Was he cute?” Lavender gushed.

 

“Of course he was cute, look at her blush,” Padma teased. Ginny was silent and took another bite of her sandwich, a knowing smirk on her face.

 

“What did he look like?” Lavender asked.

“Um, he was tall,” I started, Lavender and Padma leaned in, “he had freckles and red hair.”

 

“Red hair, the only red headed kids at school are the Weasleys,” Lavender interrupted, looking over at Ginny.

 

“It must’ve been one of Ginny’s brothers, there’s a whole lot of them. They multiply like rabbits.” Padma said.

 

“Do you know which one it was Gin?” Lavender asked, “Any of them missing jackets?”

 

“Yeah,” Ginny said, mouthful of food. She looked at me with sly smile, “Fred.”


	3. The Sleepover

I reeled in the information Ginny had given me about Fred. 18, held back a year, Year 11 just like me, twin brother to George who had also been held back, and apparently, the biggest womanizer the school has ever seen. I had tried giving Ginny the jacket, too afraid of embarrassing myself in front of Fred, but she shook her head and told me to ‘woman up’. All throughout Chemistry I day dreamed about what would happen if I found the courage to give the jacket back to Fred.

 

I would thank him and he would say “No problem,” then he would kiss me and push me up against the wall and have his way with me. 

 

Luna nudged me a couple of times to bring me out of my daze. I blushed every time and scolded myself for not taking notes. 

 

I searched all my classes for him, hoping I had missed him the first week of school and that he would take a seat next to my desk and smile at me with that crooked smile of his. I looked for him through the halls, and outside in the courtyard, and while I walked outside the school gates towards my father’s car. 

 

Ginny had convinced me to sleepover at her house afterschool on Friday. “You’ll be able to give him his jacket if you haven’t already, it will be great,” she was foaming at the mouth with excitement. “We’ll do makeovers and parade around the house in our skimpy little nightgowns, that way Fred won’t be able to control himself!” 

 

I didn’t tell her that I didn’t own a nightgown, or that I didn’t wear makeup, or that my heart was already beating so fast and hard at the mere thought of being in the same house as Fred, that I would surely have a heart attack if I had to actually form words to speak to him with. I just passively agreed that I would go to her house and prayed to Merlin to give me strength.

 

I had seen Fred, or was it George, a few times here and there during the week. The first sighting was in the cafeteria where he was mixing together several of his friend’s drinks (including coke, water, apple juice, coffee, and tea, not that I was watching enough to notice) together and daring the younger years to taste it. Then I saw him reading a book of poetry in the library, but the librarian smacked him in the back of the head and confiscated a magazine he was hiding in the book that looked an awful lot like pornography. I decided that library Fred must’ve been George, because the Fred I imagined wasn’t lewd.

 

I found out that he and George were on the boy’s lacrosse team and I had their practice schedule in my bag courtesy of Ginny. I hadn’t found the courage to watch them practice yet, but Ginny assured me that we could go to their game the following weekend together.

 

Friday came too soon and Ginny’s older brother Percy patiently waited outside my apartment while Ginny rummaged through my clothes to find something ‘acceptable’ for me to wear at her house. Her comments ranged from “Wow, Fred will ravage you in this low-cut blouse, I didn’t know you owned something this scandalous Hermione,” to “What is this garbage? What are you? An elderly woman or a 16-year-old goddess?” 

 

After thirty minutes of Ginny packing me an overnight bag, we finally made our way back to the car. It was a fifteen-minute drive to the Weasley house and my stomach churned with anxiety while Ginny and Percy made conversation without me.

 

The Weasley house was not by any means large, and you wouldn’t believe that nine people could live there. “I’m the only girl, so I get my own room. You wouldn’t believe how jealous my brothers are,” Ginny told me while we climbed up the stairs to the front door. Percy drove off to visit his girlfriend with a small wave goodbye.

 

The door was unlocked and I took in the entryway while Ginny announced our arrival. There were framed photos and scribbles of artwork decorating the walls and a heat in the air that was welcoming. Ginny pulled me up the staircase towards her room and pointed out the doors on either side of us, “That’s Ron and Percy’s Room,” she said pointing at a door with weathered white paint, “and that’s Bill and Charlie’s Room,” there was music playing softly behind the closed door, “and that’s the Twin’s room,” Ginny concluded, pointing towards the door across from hers with a sign that read ‘enter at your own risk. “I wouldn’t go in there unless you want a bucket of paint dumped on your head,” Ginny shuddered and then ushered me into her room.

 

Ginny’s room was bold and primary, just like her personality. The walls were colored red and blue and there were trophies lining her bookshelf and dresser for different sports. She had a twin bed with Wonder Women sheets and a worn stuffed bear lounging on the pillow. “I like your room,” I said lamely, wishing I had said something more original.

 

“Thanks Hermione, but let’s talk business.” She pulled me onto her bed and looked me straight in the eyes. “If you want to sleep with my brother you have to play hard to get.” It was so cliché.

 

“I don’t want to sleep with your brother, Gin. I just want to return his bloody jacket and get back to normal.”

 

“You’ll have to be just the right level of seductress, but play the innocent virgin all the while. It’ll drive him crazy.” I sighed as Ginny reached for a journal and plan. I didn’t bother telling Ginny that I didn’t have to play the virgin, I was already perfect for the role. “You need a gimmick, like Jesus, or you’re waiting for ‘the one’.”

 

“Jesus? Ginny, I don’t follow you. I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover? Not a lets-talk-about-boys-all-night-over.”

 

“You know, like ‘Saving myself for marriage’ bible loving Jesus gimmick. It drives boys mad, they take it as a challenge,” Ginny smiled wide, “and sleepovers are for talking about boys.”

 

Ginny spent the better part of an hour describing to me how to get into her brother’s pants and the next half hour getting me ready to have dinner with her family. After applying some makeup and dressing me in a pair of skinny jeans and a black tee, we made our way down to the dining room.

 

I hadn’t been around the bottom level of the house and I used the unfamiliar surroundings as a distraction from the red headed twins sitting at the table with their heads together over a notebook. The Kitchen was larger than I expected and there was a woman rushing back and forth from the island counter to the stove and oven preparing dinner. Through the hall I could see the living room with a modest sized television and a matching set of loveseats and a sofa. 

 

Ginny winked at me and pushed me into the empty seat next to one of the twins while sitting on the other side of me so I could not escape. I didn’t know if I was relieved or upset that neither Fred or George looked up to greet me. Part of me was rejoiced I wouldn’t forget how to breathe if they tried to speak to me, but the other part of me was self-conscious and thought that they were ignoring me because they thought of me as just some little friend of their sister’s. 

 

Ginny began to ask her mother about her day and I strained my ears to eavesdrop on the hushed conversation the twins were sharing with each other. I heard small things like ‘Lee’ and ‘Angelina’ but I couldn’t make sense of it. Suddenly I felt hot breath against my neck and turned to see a wicked smile and dangerous eyes centimeters from my face. I knew instantly (or hoped) that I was sitting next to George. His eyes scanned my face and body and I burned under his gaze. “I’ve never seen you here before, kitten.”

 

He nudged Fred and I felt the flush under my skin burn down to my chest. “You shouldn’t let anyone see that beautiful chest but me.” I cleared my throat and composed myself. Fred and George shared a curious smile and both looked amused as they waited for my response. “That would be because I’ve never been here, George,” George’s eyebrows furrowed and Fred smiled wider. “If you could move back that would be great, you smell as though you haven’t showered in days.” I mentally high-fived myself for not choking and turned my attention to Ginny, who giggled and stuck her tongue out childishly at George. I felt Fred’s laugh penetrate my chest and constrict around my heart, making it hard to breathe.

 

Dinner was shockingly easy. Ginny’s parents, Molly and Arthur, asked me questions about school and London, keeping my mind off the boy sitting less than three feet away from me. Percy hadn’t returned for dinner and Bill and Charlie took their food up to their rooms, claiming they had to catch up on Game of Thrones. I quickly made friends with Ron, who I recognized from a couple of my classes, and every once in a while, had to ignore George’s attempts to get under my skin (breathing down my neck, poking me in the side, reaching his arm across my plate to get the salt and thus assaulting my nostrils with his un-showered-after-lacrosse-practice-sweaty musk). Fred was quiet and only spoke when Molly asked him about school or if the twins had got in trouble (they both plead that they hadn’t, but Molly didn’t look convinced). 

 

After dinner Ginny and I took to the living room where she insisted we watch one of her favorite movies, The Little Mermaid. I had to control my breathing to keep from laughing too hard and throwing up when Ginny started scream-singing Under the Sea, insisting that she put on her best Jamaican accent.

 

Late in the night, after binge watching several episodes of Carnivale, Ginny fell asleep on the couch and left me alone to get ready for bed. I walked up the stairs to her room to retrieve my pajamas (The short shorts I only wore in the summer and a tank top that was a size too small for me that Ginny insisted Fred would love) and changed quickly. In the bathroom beside Ginny’s room I heard the shower running and sighed knowing I would have to wait until they were done before I could get in there and wash my face. 

 

When the water turned off my heart started thumping. I wondered if it was Fred in the shower. I thought about pretending I didn’t know someone was in there and walking in. If it was Fred, would I see him naked? Or would he already have a towel around his waist? Or what if it wasn’t Fred. What if it was Ron? What if it was George? I shuddered the thought away and went into the hallway until I was standing outside the door. 

 

I looked around and saw that the twin’s door was slightly ajar. I took a deep breath and mustered up my courage and knocked softly on the door. For a brief period of time there was no answer and my body went into flight mode and begged me to run downstairs and forget about washing my face. Before I could run, the door opened, and Fred (or maybe it was George) stood wearing red plaid pajama trousers and a worn black t-shirt. He had a toothbrush hanging out the side of his mouth and toothpaste foaming at the corners of his lips. I wanted to wipe his mouth clean with my thumb and kiss him. He would taste like spearmint. 

 

He didn’t say anything, he just stepped aside and gestured for me to enter. In that moment, I knew for sure he was Fred. I had a feeling George would take any chance he got to make jokes at me. He took his place at the sink and continued brushing his teeth after closing the bathroom door, trapping the steam and heat in the bathroom. He stepped aside just enough for me to use the tap and I stood dangerously close to him while I wiped the makeup off my face with Ginny’s makeup remover. 

 

When he spat into the sink I thought about kissing him again, I wondered what his saliva would taste like. I had never kissed a boy before, I had always been grossed out by the idea of sharing spit with someone, but at that moment I had half a mind not to ask him to spit into my mouth. I flushed the thoughts out of my brain and was suddenly aware of how close he was to me. 

 

I could feel the heat coming off his body and soaking into my skin. When he reached for the mouthwash his arm brushed against mine. He mumbled a soft ‘sorry’ and my heart started dancing in my chest. That was the first time he’d spoken to me since the party.

 

“It’s okay,” I said. How original.

 

“Do you need a toothbrush? I’m sure we have a spare somewhere,” Fred opened drawers in the sink cabinet and began to sift through them. I didn’t have the heart to tell him I had a toothbrush in my bag. I wanted him to find one so that he could hand it to me and his hand would touch my hand. I wanted to feel the electricity.

 

He still had toothpaste in the corner of his mouth when he set the toothbrush in its plastic box on the counter in front of me. I didn’t show the disappointment I felt when I couldn’t accidentally touch his skin. Instead of saying thanks I reached up to point to my mouth in the same place he had white foam. He smiled softly and wiped his mouth on his hand. I wished it was my hand he was wiping his face on.

 

He began to leave the room and I stood in shock hoping to find something to say that would keep him in the room with me. Once he crossed the threshold of his room he was in George’s land and I wouldn’t be able to talk to him anymore. I reached out to grab his wrist lightly and he turned to look at me. I blushed under his gaze and dropped my hand to my side.

 

“I have your jacket in my bag, I haven’t had a chance to return it to you.” I said, staring at the place on his wrist I had touched him, hoping to see a mark that would claim him as my own. I looked up to see the confusion in his eyes and briefly wondered if the moment I had spent in the bathroom had been with George, not Fred. Then his eyes went wide and he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. 

 

“If I had known you were Gin’s friend I wouldn’t have picked on you so hard,” He said. I pretended that I wasn’t hurt that he said ‘picked on’ and not ‘flirted with’. 

 

“I find it very hard to believe that,” I said.

 

“If you intend to keep exposing yourself to the world like that,” he gestured to my top and as quickly as his eyes followed he suddenly was interested with the hem of his trousers (a gesture that I dare to admit made me quite excited as he tugged on the hem exposing a soft trail of red hair), “then you should keep it.”

 

Fred left me lost for words in the bathroom. I watched the steam follow Fred out, escaping into the hallway. I silently praised Ginny for dressing me so provocatively. I would never admit it to her in person, but it gave me great joy to know that Fred was once again staring at my chest.


	4. The Morning After

FPOV

“What’s Ginny’s friend’s name?” I asked George as I entered our shared room. George sat on his bed on his side of the room with his eyes downcast towards his phone. 

 

“Why do you want to know?” George looked up at me with a Cheshire cat’s smile, “Doth thou have a crush on our dear sister’s kitten?” George began to furiously text on his phone and I felt the blush creep up my neck into my cheeks. 

 

“I do not have a crush on her, I just wanted to,” I paused. I hadn’t thought it through. “I just wanted to spread a harmless rumor about her.” I shrugged. “I can’t do that without a name.”

 

“Freddy’s got a crush, how sweet.” George made a gagging sound and moved past me to get to the bathroom to shower. “I hope you don’t mind I told the crew in group chat.”

 

I watched him disappear into the hall and slip past Ginny’s friend who had just exited the bathroom. She stood in those skimpy little ‘pajamas’ and grimaced as George ruffled her hair and slammed the door shut behind him. I heard my phone blow up from texts in the group chat, probably Angelina and Lee begging for details on a crush I wasn’t sure existed. 

 

I watched Ginny’s friend space out in the hall, eyes staring at the bathroom door. I travelled down her face to her collarbones, dainty and pronounced, and to her chest, just as small and delicate, and to her narrow hips and long legs. She was nothing like the type of girls I thought about in the shower or the girls in the magazines under my mattress. She didn’t have the large breasts or the exaggerated hourglass figure, but I couldn’t get her touch out of my mind.

 

I reached my fingers to my inner wrist her small hand had wrapped around. I hadn’t recognized her from the party, then again, I hadn’t paid much attention to her face when her chest was exposed. 

 

I stared longer at her face, absorbing the way her hair framed her face in soft curls and how her eyelashes cast shadows on her cheeks. She turned to me and met my stare. The tension was palpable and I could feel it curling inside my stomach, settling somewhere between reluctance and lust. I walked towards the door and slammed it shut, leaning my forehead against the wood. 

 

My breath was ragged and my mind was clouded with thoughts of the girl on the other side of the door. A girl I didn’t even know the name of. When I heard her walk down the stairs into the living room I turned off the lights and crawled into my bed. I grabbed my phone and scrolled through the sixty or so texts from my friends dying to know about the mystery girl; then I saw it.

 

GW: Freddy’s got a crush on some little kitten named Hermione, poor bloke’s fallen hard.

 

I watched the ceiling fan turn as I repeated her name in my mind. Hermione. Hermione. Hermione. 

 

HPOV

I wandered back down the stairs, heart heavy. He had slammed the door. Stupid Hermione, you shouldn’t have stared. Now what’s he going to think of you?

 

I sighed, wondering how I’ve stooped so low as to being consumed by a boy. I should’ve been studying, or reading, or studying. Hermione Granger never let boys overrun her thoughts. But then there was the little speckle of hope that maybe Fred liked me, too, but that was ridiculous. Ginny told me he was a womanizer; he could have his pick of the school. 

 

Ginny was snoring when I sat on the couch next to her sprawled out body. It was getting late and I could feel the heavy drowsiness lulling me to curl up next to Ginny and sleep, but my mind was restless.

 

I thought some more about Fred. I thought about his wrist where I touched him in the bathroom. It was soft, softer than I thought a boy could feel. I thought about his mouth, and his tongue, and his saliva. I thought about his hands and how they had played with the hem of his shirt. I thought about what his body would look like under his clothes, built from lacrosse and covered in soft light-red hair.

 

I woke in the morning to Molly cooking breakfast. Ginny was hanging half off the couch with drool rolling down her face towards her ear. I stretched my arms and back which were stiff from sleeping on the hard couch and I rubbed the sleep out of my eyes. Molly came into the living room to wake Ginny and I and tell us breakfast would be ready in ten minutes, so I left Ginny to snooze while I headed towards the bathroom to pee. 

 

The door was wide open and there was nobody I wanted to see more than George in purple onesie pajamas washing his hands. I thought about retreating downstairs before he saw me, but it was too late, and he had already sauntered over to me with a wide grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

 

“G’Morning Hermione, and how did our little kitten sleep last night?” I walked past him into the bathroom and much to my annoyance he followed me in.

 

“I would like to use the loo if you wouldn’t mind.” I crossed my arms and pouted.

 

“I don’t mind at all, and you didn’t answer my question.” He mimicked my arm-crossing and his expression shifted from his mischievous grim to one of amusement. 

 

“If you must know, I wasn’t very comfortable last night on the couch, now would you please leave, I can’t use the loo if you’re in here.”

 

“You know kitten,” George stepped forward until he inches from me and leaned down to my ear, “If you want, next time you can stay with Fred and I. We can make you real comfortable.”

 

I huffed and tried to look as serious as possible, which must have looked ridiculous because George chuckled and put his hands up in surrender. “Careful kitten, you might put somebody’s eye out with that stare,” he pretend glared at me before leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind him. 

 

After breakfast Percy drove Ginny and I back to my apartment. I thanked him for the ride and received a bone-crushing hug from Ginny. After promising that I would come to her house more often, I retreated to my room and collapsed on my bed. I pulled Fred’s jacket out of my overnight bag and brought it to my nose, inhaling his scent. Crookshanks jumped onto my stomach and let out a soft mewl. 

 

I scratched his scruff and listened to him purr. “Crooks, I’ve got to figure out what to do about this boy.” I fell onto my side and hugged the jacket to my chest. “I think I’ve gone mad.”


	5. Fantasies

FANTASIES (FPOV)

I tugged on the fabric of my shirt, attempting to keep it from sticking to my torso. Practice was excruciating. I could see Ginny and Hermione talking in the stands while Ginny was waiting for George and I to give her a ride home. I could see Hermione’s hair coming loose from her top bun, short strands that couldn’t be pulled back hugging the base of her neck. Coach had already scolded me for my poor performance and made me do extra cardio. Now he was eyeing me, unamused, as my focus wandered to the brunette in the bleachers whenever she laughed or pushed stray hair behind her ear or crossed her legs. 

I shivered as an autumn wind sent a chill down my sweat drenched body and was reminded for the hundredth time by our team captain to ‘pay attention to practice, not pussy.’ 

I could feel her watching me. I purposefully took off my shirt halfway through practice, slowly pulling it over my head and balling it up to toss it off the field. I imagined that she was wet for me, which backfired and left me sporting a semi when I thought about pushing her up against a wall. 

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The car ride was awkward, to say the least. Ginny convinced George to drop by Hermione’s place so she wouldn’t have to take the city bus, and within the first two minutes of being in the car together, George had already teased Hermione to the point she sat in the backseat silent with her arms crossed and an adorable scowl on her face. 

I watched her through the side mirror of the car while she leaned against the window. The car was silent save the radio playing some pop-top-forty bullshit station that Ginny insisted listening to.

“So kitten, when are you going to stay over again? I very much enjoyed watching you in those tight clothes you call pajamas,” George said, glancing at Hermione through the rear-view mirror. Hermione looked at him and glared, crossing her arms tighter and unintentionally drawing my eyes towards her chest for the millionth time since I had met her. I smirked. 

“If you wear them again next time, maybe George and I will let you have your way with us,” I said. “Two lovers are better than one.” Ginny stuck her tongue out at me.

“With cocks as small as yours, two lovers don’t even add up to one,” Hermione said. 

“It’s not the size that matters, it’s how you use it,” I smiled and caught her eye through the side mirror. She stared back at me with a glint of mischief in her eyes.

“How out of character for you, Fred, to use a cliché. Here I thought you and George were original.”

She caught me at a loss of words as we pulled into the parking lot of her apartment complex. She waved bye at Ginny and we stayed put until she entered her home. I would be lying if I said I didn’t think about her ass later in the shower. 

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“Spill,” Ginny bounced in place on the couch next to me and poked me in the side. “You’re into Hermione,” she poked me hard in the ribs, “you like her, don’t you? You love her.” I narrowed my eyes at Ginny and George laughed.

“He thinks about her all the time. He was so deep in thought, he almost got kicked off the team today,” George said, smug. “I even heard him in his sleep last night, moaning her name and thrusting into his mattress.” I threw a couch pillow at George’s head.

“That’s a lie and you know it,” I threw another pillow at George, “I sleep on my back.” George and Ginny were laughing so hard they clutched their sides and George fell to the floor. 

“And what about the shower?” George managed to say between fits of laughter, “I definitely heard her name while you were in there,” George pretended to masturbate and Ginny covered her eyes while her laughter increased ten-fold, “Oh, Hermione, punish me again for my poor work ethic and bad grades.” He let out a loud moan and spasmed on the floor while I tried to keep from smiling. 

Mum came into the living room and reprimanded us for being so loud past ten. It wasn’t long after she returned to her room that I felt the laughter bubble out of my chest. “I prefer to fantasize about study sessions, not punishment,” I said.

“’Oh Fred, however will I teach you about British Colonialism?’” George said in a high-pitched voice, causing Ginny to tear up.

“’I’d learn better if you’d ravish me first,’” Ginny said, mocking my voice. I shook my head and listened to George and Ginny come up with terrible study-sex puns for a few minutes before going to bed. I could hear George calling up the stairs at me, telling me to hurry up and finish because he wanted to go to bed too.

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Once I was alone in my room I collapsed on my bed and thought about the mischievous look Hermione had given me in the car. It was getting harder to stop the crush on Hermione from forming when she kept giving me glimpses of playfulness underneath that hard bookworm exterior. Ginny had brought her by the house afterschool every day this week to sit and gossip in her room, and Hermione had scolded George and I on numerous occasions about getting serious about our studies or else we would be held back again. I must admit I was embarrassed that she knew about that, but George came to the rescue and swore to her it was based on behavior, not academics.

Her company was addicting and I found myself at the dining room table Wednesday listening to her explain to me covalent bonds even though I wasn’t listening. Instead, I undressed her in my mind and fantasized about trailing my hand up her leg until my fingers were inside of her. I imagined her breath getting slower and deeper as she tried to continue studying. I imagined the blush that would appear every time somebody walked past us to get to the kitchen. She would mewl like a kitten when she came. She would try to suppress the waves of pleasure that coursed through her body so that she could continue to tell me about atoms. 

I sighed stared at my phone, wishing that I had her phone number. I would call her and beg her to come over, or I would sneak into her room, and I would show her just how much I could do with a ‘cock as small as mine’.

George entered the room there with his hand over his eyes. He peeked through his fingers and asked if I was decent. I rolled onto my stomach and felt my erection pressed against my body. I wondered if I fell asleep on my stomach if I really would thrust into my mattress.


	6. Photographs

“Do you have a picture of him? Send one to me so I can tell you if you’re crazy,” Harry said over Skype.

“No, I don’t have a picture of him, that would be weird Harry, nobody does that,” I said.

“Sure they do, all you got to do is go on Facebook and steal some from his profile,” I rolled my eyes, “and then you have to send them to me so that we can discuss things.” I was beginning to regret telling Harry about my crush.

“And what if his profile is private? I won’t be able to get a picture then.”

“Then you take one when he’s not looking, be sneaky, pretend you’re taking a selfie.”

“I can’t do that, Harry, it’s creepy. And what if he sees me doing it and knows,” I buried my face in my hands, “Why can’t I just be my normal Hermione-self and obsess over books, not boys?”

“Hermione Granger, pull yourself together, you can do this,” Harry said sternly. “You’re a strong, independent, beautiful woman and you better get on your phone, log in to Facebook, and start screenshotting until you run out of storage space.” I snorted.

Our conversation was cut short by Harry making me promise to send him at least one picture by Monday. I chewed on the end of my nail and logged into Facebook on my computer. He wasn’t difficult to find, we had Ginny as a mutual friend, but his account was private and his profile picture was of that frog meme riding a unicycle. The confident-independent Hermione inside of me commanded me to send a friend request and take charge, but the stronger-insecure Hermione willed me to log off and lay on my bed face down in shame. 

I sighed and checked my phone for messages from Ginny. She was picking me up (in the passenger seat of Percy’s car) to go to a house party at her boyfriend, Dean’s, house. His parents were away for the weekend and he was throwing a massive sleepover with ‘no questions asked’ the next day. 

I waited for her in my apartment’s parking lot and took a calming breath when I saw Fred and George’s car driving up the street. Ginny rolled down the backseat window and told me to ‘get in bitch’. When I went to open the door, the car rolled forward and I could hear them all laughing from inside the car. I crossed my arms and scowled at Ginny until she opened the door for me. 

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The party was horrible. Ginny left me standing in the hall against the wall to go make out with Dean in his room and I found myself, once again, with a red solo cup of liquor in an unfamiliar place. Nobody was dancing at this party. Fred and George were sitting in a circle of about twenty people in the living room playing spin the bottle. I had been watching them play, but once I saw Fred kiss a girl named Katie, I wandered into the kitchen to get another drink. 

I saw a glimpse of red amongst the crowd in the kitchen and turned to see Ron sitting at the dining room table playing a game of chess with a boy from my year named Seamus. There was an empty seat where I sat next to Ron and quietly watched them play. Seamus was obviously on something, he was bouncing in his seat and asking Ron where he should move and how, which left Ron playing a game of chess against himself. 

I had three more sips of whiskey before Ron asked me to play against him instead. I smiled lamely and told him I wasn’t that good, but he insisted.

“Gin leave you alone?” He asked. I nodded. “She hasn’t gone off with Dean, has she?” I nodded again and he grimaced. “And he’s supposed to be my friend or something, friends don’t date their friend’s sisters,” Ron mumbled.

“And brothers?” I instantly regretted my choice of words when I saw Ron blush and begin to stutter.

“W-well, I sort of have a girlfriend,” he blushed deeper. “But thanks anyway.” We played the rest of the game in uncomfortable silence.

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It was ten by the time George pulled me over to sit between him and Fred on the living room floor. A new game of Spin the Bottle had begun after an hour-long break in which everybody dispersed to fill their drinks and stand in line for the bathroom. 

The left side of my body was pressed against Fred’s side and George was on my right insisting I move over further so Angelina could sit next to him. I can’t say I was opposed to the situation once I got over the initial shock; it was oddly satisfying to feel Fred’s every movement beside me. 

Lee began the game, spinning the bottle and having to kiss a boy named Oliver. It was rather complex, the way they played, with a list of rules and exceptions. The person who spun the bottle had to kiss the person that the mouth of the bottle pointed to and the person who was on the opposite side of the bottle was the next spinner. Then there was the dice. If the person who spun the bottle rolled a one, they had to play ‘seven minutes in Heaven’ in the closet with the person unless they were related.

My heart was spastic in my chest when the end of the bottle pointed towards me. Angelina had to kiss Katie (which prompted many whistles and cheers from the boys) and I held the dreaded dice in one hand praying to God I didn’t get a one. It didn’t work. Fred tensed beside me when everyone cheered; it was the first one of the game. I prayed once more for God to have mercy and give me, well, I didn’t have anybody I would rather be with, just not Fred. It seemed an eternity before the bottle came to a halt, pointed at none other than George Weasley. There was a long silence before Lee and Oliver laughed and the rest of the circle pushed us towards the coat closet in the hallway. 

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It was dark in the closet, only lit by a dim bulb hanging limp from the ceiling. George was the first to break the silence with a chuckle.

“Pucker up Kitten, time for the best kiss of your life,” he smiled down at me with open arms, his eyes lit with amusement.

“Why do we have to kiss, it’s not like anyone will know what we do in here,” I folded my arms against my chest and glared up at him.

“They’re going to think we kissed no matter what, so we may as well enjoy our time here.”

“I’d rather kiss a ferret then kiss you,” I smiled and looked down at my feet. 

“Ouch Kitten, and here I thought you harbored a little crush for me,” he took a step towards me and pulled me into his chest. I looked up at his face and tried my best to look strong and collected, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t wonder if Fred’s chest would be just as warm and muscular. 

“I’d never, I like boys that have actually read books before.” He laughed.

“Well, then you’re in for quite the shock, because I don’t think Fred’s ever read a book in his life that wasn’t a sports magazine or a porno.” I gaped at him and it only made him laugh harder. “You know, you’re not as subtle as you think you are Kitten, I see the way you look at him, I’m amazed you haven’t jumped him yet and snogged him senseless.” I blushed.

“You won’t say anything, will you?” He shook his head and raised his right hand.

“Scout’s honor,” He laughed and released me, “So, are you going to kiss him tonight? If you get him in Spin the bottle you can go all out on him, leave him breathless and waiting for more.”

“I doubt that, George, I’ve never kissed anyone before.” 

“You can practice on my if you’d like,” George laughed and lunged towards me, landing a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I laughed and tried to push him off to no avail and he pressed a small kiss on my temple. “He’s got the hots for you Kitten, he gets off to you in the shower, you can hear him moaning from the neighbor’s house.” I swatted him in the chest.

“Don’t mock me George Weasley, it’s not funny.” George was about to respond but was interrupted by a knock on the door. Angelina stood next to a boy named Franklin, explaining they rolled a one and our time in the closet was over. 

George winked at Fred and Fred frowned. I sat next to him again and he scooted away from me so that we weren’t touching.

It was Fred’s turn to spin the bottle and I silently hoped it would land on me. George’s words about Fred having a crush on me were still fresh in my mind. The bottle didn’t land on me; it had landed on George.

“That’s rubbish,” George said, “there’s a rule about that, isn’t there?”

“Only if you’re related of opposite gender, mate, not for same sex,” Lee said.

“But we’re twins, Lee, that’s sick,” Fred said.

“That’s the rule,” Oliver said. There was a heated discussion about rules and exceptions which led to Fred having to kiss the next closest person, me.

George winked at me and shoved me over to Fred. I could hear my heart beating in my ears. I could feel Fred’s breath on my face as he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine, but as quickly as it began, it was over. Katie spun the bottle and the game went on but my mind was elsewhere. I was disappointed he hadn’t kissed me longer.

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Ginny had finally shown her face after spending hours with Dean in his room and pulled me into the bathroom to explain to me, in vivid detail mind you, the way that Dean had ‘made love to her’. I wanted to vomit after the first ten minutes, but Ginny was the only friend I had and I had to stick it out. 

Once Ginny let me out of her grasp, people were beginning to settle down and pass out in various spaces on the floor and, those who got lucky, in the rooms. Ginny disappeared again to Dean’s room and left me to find a place to sleep by myself.

I wandered into the living room where some boys were watching porn on the television. I grimaced at the screen and looked over to see Fred lounging on the couch on his phone. I mustered up all my courage and wandered over to him, intent to making him give up his space on the couch for me. 

“Hey Fred, mind If I sit with you?” I asked. He moved so I could sit beside him and then dropped his head on my lap. 

“Did you have a nice time in the closet with George earlier?” Fred asked, his voice firm.

“Not exactly,” I said, “He slobbered all over my cheek and started ranting about masturbation.” Not entirely the truth, but Fred didn’t know that.

“He certainly knows how to treat a lady,” Fred said. He dropped his phone on his chest and stared up at me. “I suppose you’d like to steal my bed for tonight,” he smiled.

“It would be very gentlemanly of you to do so,” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear.

“Only if you share.” Before I could protest Fred pulled me down so I was spooned into him and he wrapped his arms around my midsection. There was barely enough room for us, so Fred pulled the back cushions off the couch and threw them on the floor. I could feel his heart beat against my back and his nose brushed against the back of my neck. 

“Good night, Granger,” Fred said before snuggling closer to me and closing his eyes. I was at a loss for words. I stared straight ahead at the television, barely paying any notice to the busty blond bouncing on top of the overly muscular man dressed as a police officer. I wondered for a moment where George was, and what he would say if he saw me pressed against Fred. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket and I had to wiggle a bit to fish it out of my pocket. I squinted at the bright screen as I unlocked my phone and waited for my eyes to adjust to brightness. 

HP: Don’t forget to take a picture of Fred, I want to see what the fuss is about. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about this.

I sighed and told him I would get one soon, but before I hit send I was cursed with the hot breath of Fred’s words on my neck. “If you wanted a picture, all you had to do was ask, Kitten.”


End file.
